


Bad Dream

by LadyRazzle (crimegimp)



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Spoilers, Avengers: Age of Ultron Trailer, Gen, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Not Really Character Death, Past Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Temporary Character Death, Violence, it all happens in a vision, it's not real
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-05
Updated: 2014-11-05
Packaged: 2018-02-24 05:20:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2569613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimegimp/pseuds/LadyRazzle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This work is based on an Age of Ultron spoiler that has been doing the rounds, and a screencapture from the AoU trailer that seems to show Steve in a dance hall. Wanda is showing Steve an alternate timeline for his life, had he made a decision differently. Other than that, there is no context. </p><p>This is what Steve sees.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Dream

**Author's Note:**

> I don't want to add the character death tag because none of what happens here is real, it is only seen in a vision. But it feels very real at the time, so heed the tags please!

Steve closed his eyes as the young woman touched his hands. The sounds of the world faded away for a moment and when they returned, each one had changed. Birdsong had been replaced by chatter and glasses clinking. The wind had been superseded by a familiar big band rhythm; an old standard, known and not known. Steve was smiling before he even opened his eyes.

The dance hall was just like those he had known from before the war. Not a modern attempt at “retro” facsimile with all its well-intentioned inaccuracies, but an echoing, busy, overly warm temple of laughter and graceless dancing. It was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen. He looked down, suddenly aware of how out of place he would look in his jeans and too-tight shirt, when all about him were dolled up so nice, many of the men in uniform and the women with pinned curls and pretty dresses that moved so nicely when they danced. He crossed his arms over his chest self-consciously. 

The girl walked up beside him and laid a hand on his bicep. He started, almost having forgotten her. 

“It’s okay, they can’t see us,” she said. “We can only watch.” 

“I thought you were going to show me darkness,” he replied. “No offence miss, but this is pretty nice.” 

She smiled at him. 

“Darkness is different for everyone,” she said. “Most people are actually pretty aware of the crappy, selfish side of themselves. I don’t know what you’re going to see,” she added astutely, as he had been about to ask. “But it won’t be nice.” 

He turned away from her to look back into the crowd, and saw them. Or rather, her. Peggy Carter, young and beautiful, wrapped in blue satin and moving delicately to the beat of the music as she watched the dancers from the edge of the dance floor. Her hair was longer than he remembered, but her lipstick was just as bright, and her posture commanding and confident as ever. He spent time with Peggy in the future, but it wasn’t the same and it was foolish to pretend he didn’t miss her. 

She turned, smiling, and Steve saw the company she kept – the table behind her was peopled with faces he knew to varying degrees. A couple of his howling commandos, arms draped around each other or leaning along the back of their date’s chair. Howard Stark couldn’t take his eyes off a very pretty girl who sitting next to him, laughing at one of DumDum’s jokes. And next to Howard...

“This is what happened when you weren’t selfish,” Wanda said. “You didn’t roll your plane into the ocean, you let Howard save you.” 

“I thought I would die,” Steve said in defence, his forehead creasing. “How d’you figure that was selfish?” 

“That’s not something I can tell you,” she replied after a moment. Steve turned away from her, still wary of taking anything she said too much to heart.  
It has been said that if you saw yourself in real life you wouldn’t recognise your own face, but there was a lot that Steve could see was wrong besides. His other self, the one they called Cap, wasn’t sitting up too straight, and where all the others were laughing, he seemed to have barely mustered a smile. 

To the delight of most of the table, the waitress arrived with a large tray of drinks. Half the company tried to get up to help her, but she shooed them away with good nature and went about distributing their glasses. She was left with an extra glass and looked around in askance. Cap got up out of his seat and reached for it with a small smile. Once she had left, he placed the glass of cognac to his right, in front of an empty seat. Nobody said anything, nor did their glances linger more than a moment. 

“Come on.” 

Wanda led him down the stairs and around the edge of the dance floor, until they were only a couple of tables away and could overhear. Despite knowing that he couldn’t be seen, Steve ducked down, trying in vain to make himself look inconspicuous. They watched the group, laughing and joking about nothing of import. One of the commandos would begin to tell a story and the others would pick it up and embellish it beyond all realms of possibility. Peggy sipped her drink and shook her head affectionately at them. Steve glanced at Wanda, looking for a reaction, wondering if he should be responding to the situation in some way other than to conclude that in peacetime he was a miserable bastard. She didn’t need magic to show him that. 

Gabe set down his drink and approached Peggy, courteously offering his hand. 

“Ma’am?” he said. She smiled in response, laying her hand in his. 

“I thought you’d never ask,” she replied, allowing him to lead her to the dance floor to the good-natured hoots of their friends. Cap watched them with vague interest, but nothing like jealousy crossed his face, and he made no move to intercept. 

There was a dull, fast sound, and a pop. Howard's lady friend paused where she had been moving herself to sit on his knee. For one pregnant moment, there was absolute silence as everyone froze, staring at the red patch blossoming over the side of her yellow dress. 

Then all hell broke loose. Cap threw himself toward Howard, knocking him out of his chair, out of the path of another bullet that caught Cap across his upper arm. More shots rang out and the revellers panicked, scattering and running for the exits, tripping over one another in their attempts to escape. Steve tried to help but there was no point – he couldn’t be seen or felt, he couldn’t assist in any way. 

The commandos rallied immediately, falling into defence, sheltering as they tried to discover the source of the assault. They weren’t armed, but they wouldn’t run. Steve waved frantically at Howard, silently telling him to get out with the girl, who was bleeding heavily but still alive. When the hall was empty except for their little team, the gunfire slowed, then stopped. But every time one of them would move, a bullet would ping out and catch, or skid right by whatever body part was exposed. They were pinned. 

“Hold your fire!" Cap called. "My name is Captain Steven Rogers. This was an unprovoked attack. We are not armed, and we are not at war – show yourself and tell us what you want.”  
There was no response. Cap looked to DumDum for approval, and received only a confused shrug in return. 

“I’m going to stand up,” Cap said. DumDum shook his head vigorously. However noncommittal he might be, he knew that wasn’t a good plan. “Come out, and we can talk.” 

He pushed himself slowly to his feet and stepped out of the wreckage of tables, onto the dance floor, his hands in the air.

For several moments, there was nothing, and he began to lower his hands. Then the worst thing Steve could have imagined dropped from the rafters to the floor in front of the Captain. An assassin clad entirely in black, hair just falling around his eyes and skirting the top of a black fabric mask that covered his mouth and chin. He was slimmer, and his clothes and arm were less advanced, but there was no mistake – Captain Rogers was face to face with the Winter Soldier. And Steve knew so much more than his counterpart in that moment. He knew the Soldier hadn’t descended to negotiate. 

Cap took a few steps toward him, arms up in placation. Behind the soldier, Morita was moving toward them with a large kitchen knife he had procured from somewhere. Cap tried to wave him away, but the movement wasn’t subtle enough to get past the assassin. The Winter Soldier turned, took a step and grabbed Morita by the throat, tossing him effortlessly across the room and onto the stage among abandoned instruments. When he turned back to Cap, the fight began.

“He has to stop, he can get through to him,” Steve said, fighting his own body as it made futile attempts to intervene. The other commandos hung back, aware that while the Captain was holding his own, they didn't stand a chance. They located what weapons they could, waiting for opportunity, waiting for the assailant to tire. Steve knew they would be waiting for longer than they had. 

“Nothing you can do, Captain,” Wanda said again, sounding almost sympathetic. 

"Come on, you idiot, see him!" Steve said, as much to himself as to those who couldn't hear. "Just knock him out." 

It was a distinct possibility. Steve could see The Soldier wasn't polished yet; his attacks were powerful, brutal and relentless, but they lacked the fluidity, the elegance that would come with decades more training and experience. In this battle, Cap had the upper hand, if only just. He landed more blows, trying to subdue the assailant, to bring him down without killing him so they could question him, and because any version of Steve would always prefer to detain than kill. 

A shot rang out, the soldier only just deflecting it with his metal arm. Peggy, who had presumably been hiding the gun in her purse or in a very subtle holster that Steve didn't want to think too hard about, aimed for another shot, but the Soldier was coming at her, deflecting the second bullet with ease as he unsheathed a blade to take out this threat. A foot before he was on her, he crashed to the floor with two hundred pounds of super soldier on his back. The Soldier twisted, Cap's fist smashed into the side of his head with a crunch that echoed around the room, and he went limp. Cap stopped, his fist drawn back to deliver another punch. Peggy crouched in front of them, placing her hand on the side of the soldier's face and turning his head. It moved with sickening ease. 

"He's dead, Steve," she said. "His neck's broken." 

Standing next to Wanda, Steve dropped to his knees, all the breath sucked out of his lungs. 

"Damn," Cap said, releasing the body to the floor and getting to his feet. "I didn't mean to kill him. We need to know who sent him."

"No identifying marks on his clothing," Peggy said, poking at the soldier's sleeves and collar with her gun barrel, looking for insignia. The other commandos approached warily. "Could be a remnant of HYDRA, trying to carry on their work. We'll see if there's anything in the files back at base," Peggy concluded.

Cap nodded, rubbing at the bullet wound on his shoulder and beginning to move away. Peggy leaned down, pulling the mask away from the soldier with an elegant, red-nailed finger. 

"Just walk away," Steve whispered, his eyes burning. "Don't turn around." 

Peggy sucked in a shocked breath. 

"That's not possible," Gabe said over her shoulder, exactly as DumDum said, "What in the hell?" Steve turned around and started back to them, as Peggy launched herself into his path. 

"Steve, it's nothing, you don't need to see…" 

"Don't!" Steve yelled as Cap pushed past her to the unmasked body behind. The face of Bucky Barnes lay, white as winter, uncovered on the destroyed dance floor. Cap folded slowly to his knees, his mouth and eyes wide in disbelief. He laid a hand on Bucky's chest, above a heart that would no longer beat, and screwed his fingers into the fabric. 

"What is this?" he whispered, grasping at Bucky's shirt and cradling his face, trying to will life back into his broken body. "What did they do to you?" his voice rose to a yell. "What did they do to him?" he shouted at the others, who all stood about him, frozen in shock with not an answer between them. He turned back to Bucky, his breathing suddenly ragged and his face contorted in grief. "What have I done to you?" he said quietly. "Oh, God help me, what have I done?" 

He pulled Bucky's limp frame violently up into an embrace, burying his face in the crook of his shoulder and crushing their bodies together. And he began to yell, screaming out an incoherent mess of pain and grief and remorse so acute Steve could hear his vocal cords begin to tear themselves apart, his own throat aching in sympathy as if the cries came from his own mouth. 

"Take me back, take me back, please get me out of here," he began to babble, reaching out to take Wanda's hand. His pleas rose in volume to battle with his reflection's pain and he fell to his hands and knees. 

And then there was silence. And carpet under his fingers, and the song of birds in his ears. He sat back on his ankles and pushed the heels of his hands against his eyes. 

"Who was he?" 

He took a moment before drawing his hands down, sniffing back his throat full of tears. 

"Everything I loved best in the world," he said, mildly surprised at his own honesty. 

"And he's your darkness?" Wanda asked. "I only show you," she said at his questioning look. "I can't tell you what it means." 

"He's not my darkness," Steve said. "He's the only light I've ever known. But losing him… over and over again… it's..." 

"A path to dark places," Wanda supplied. "You're interesting, Captain Rogers. We'll meet again." 

Then she was gone. He shook his head, too full of Bucky to care for her implications. He stared down at his hands; hands that had failed to catch, hands that had harmed, hands that he had now watched take a last breath. "Next time I hold you…" he swore, curling his fingers into fists until his nails cut moons into his palms.


End file.
